


A Strange Thing to Say

by Morgan_Inkeye



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Established Relationship, Feelings, M/M, Romance, Some Erotism, angbang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 05:52:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13734513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgan_Inkeye/pseuds/Morgan_Inkeye
Summary: An evening in the Lords of Angband's room. Melkor has a peculiar gift for Mairon.





	A Strange Thing to Say

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ! Thank you for stopping by. I hope you enjoy it, see you at the end :)   
> (if you want musical background... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xmP7ABct64w&ab_channel=Danielba)

It was nightfall, when Mairon entered the quarters he shared with his Master. It had been long, since he slept for the last time. Two days, perhaps three ? His body was not weak as a mortal's, but weariness was starting to overwhelm him. His legs felt sore. His hands had not so much strength left. Everything seemed to irritate him – the faintest sound made him want to punch a wall. All he wanted at this point was to find some rest, mainly because he had difficulty enduring his own self.   
But as he came into the room he found it empty, and felt slightly disappointed. No matter how exhausted he was, hearing his Master's voice, feeling his touch would have rejoiced him.   
He sighed, and started to undress. His clothes smelled of sweat and dust, of blood and hot iron. He usually found this smell to be pleasant, however at this moment it only disgusted him. He threw his clothes into a pile and went to the adjacent room, where was a bathtub. He truly needed to wash himself, and relax a bit.

He felt better now. Tireness was still there – maybe even heavier, but at least he was clean. His hair was still slightly damp, and his skin was flushed by the water's steam.   
He was not really presentable... If his Master were to come in now, he would have to apologize for such undecency. But he shrugged it away. He was too tired to think about that.   
He stretched, and yawned. The bed was strangely alluring.

When Mairon woke up, night had fallen for a while already. A fire had been lit. A warm blanket covered him, and he was clothed in his nightgown. On the bedside table was his Master's crown, and the two wicked jewels that adorned it glew in the dark.   
He felt embarrassed, not to have heard his Master arrive. He sat up, and listened closely : Melkor was in the other room. The door opened, and the Vala smiled at him.   
It was unfair, how perfect he looked. Even unclad, even with wet hair and tired features, Melkor was always handsome. Of course Mairon's opinion was biased, and many would think differently. But Mairon could, and did appreciate this dark beauty – this greyed skin and raven hair, and countless scars that testified of his numerous battles. Mairon drank in the sight of him without shame. 

''- I am sorry I did not wait for you,'' Mairon said, reluctantly looking down. '' I had hope to wake up before you came in.''

Melkor shrugged. He fetched his own nightgown and put it on, before coming to sit next to Mairon. He looked silently at his Maia for a moment. 

''- Is there something wrong, my Lord ?'' 

''- No Lord here,'' Melkor said, clicking his tongue. 

He kissed him gently, almost chastely, and grinned at the blush that invaded Mairon's face. He could be so sensitive, sometimes. He pulled his Maia into his arms. 

''- It has been a long time since we shared a moment together. '' he sighed. '' We both had our own occupations, I believe. ''

''- We did,'' Mairon said. ''Looking back, mine were less important than this, though.'' He nestled himself in this warm embrace, sighing in delight. 

They remained silent. Melkor distractedly wound a strand of ginger hair around his fingers, his gaze lost somewhere in the darkness.   
The fire crackled gently, flames danced, embers glew. Mairon stared at them in fascination, hypnotised by their changing shades. His eyelids felt heavy again, and in this comforting embrace he could have fallen asleep again. But Melkor shifted, let go of Mairon and got up, as though suddenly remembering something of importance.   
He mumbled to himself, and picked up what rested behind his crown. Mairon straightened up, and got on his feet as well, curious.   
Melkor turned around, and cleared his throat. What was this expression, on his face ? He looked... odd. As though embarrassed. No, it could not be embarrassment, thought Mairon. It would be unlikely of a God, to feel such a way.   
Mairon looked down at his blackened hands. He was holding something, a slim green rod with a bizarre, ball-like red growth at its end. Mairon frowned, tilting his head. He had never seen anything similar. 

''- What is that ?'' he asked, genuinely intrigued. 

The Vala handed it to him, with the same expression tensing his features. 

''- It is for you, Precious, '' he said. ''It is called a rose. '' 

Mairon took it with care. He turned it around, put it upside down, trailed a finger along the shaft, caressed the red part. He noted the thorns, which sharpness contrasted with the soft petals. Now he understood it was a flower – yet never had he seen one like that, not even in Valinor. It was pretty, however it did not belong here. It could not have grown here, in the North. 

''- Where did you find it ?''

Melkor scratched the back of his neck. He smiled, a bit unsure. 

''- A prisoner had it. It was a gift of her lover, according to her words. She claimed it would protect her... Apparently it did not,'' he smirked. ''Do you like it ?''

''- I do,'' Mairon nodded. ''It is however not a common sight here, flowers... May I ask you why you gift it to me ?''

The Vala's smirk faded, and he glanced away. He sat down on the bed again, and looked up at his Maia. The light of the fire seemed to give an aura to Mairon – a halo of burning light. It was beautiful. 

''- A rose bears much symbolism,'' he said at last. ''Passion, the dangers of grace. Even death sometimes. Or love.''

''- And which one does this rose embody ?'' Mairon asked, an amused smile on his lips. He sat next to his Master. 

''- You would laugh,'' Melkor shrugged. ''It would be the strangest thing to say. And most unlikely of my person.''

Mairon chuckled, and rested his head on Melkor's scarred shoulder. With his fingers he traced each mark on his Master's forearm, as if to smoothe them. He knew the Vala enjoyed it.   
Mairon was amused by the situation. Never had he seen his Master this way – so embarrassed, so... shy ? What a funny thing. He only hoped Melkor would not think he was being mocked. The Maia found it endearing, and he was proud to be allowed to see this side of his Master. He felt truly priviledged. 

''- No matter how strange it may be,'' Mairon said softly, ''I want to know. You already said too much, or not enough.'' He wound his fingers with his Master's. ''Tell me.''

''- Love,'' Melkor breathed out. ''It is a mark of love. Now I allow you Precious, you can laugh. I was prepared,'' he chuckled.

But Mairon only smiled in joy, and leant on to kiss him. 

''- I will not laugh,'' he whispered. ''Thank you, Melkor. I honestly appreciate it.''

The Vala smiled back, and pulled him for another kiss. Long, slow and passionate, as he knew Mairon enjoyed the most. He stroked his hair with his free hand, the other still entwined with his Maia's.   
He did not think it would be so well-received. It had seemed ridiculous, at first. That maiden had clung to her rose until she died, and when her limp hand had let it go, Melkor had picked it up. He had not been sure, at the moment, whether Mairon would like it or not. It was silly, after all. They seldom voiced their love out – it was evident, they needed not prove it neither say it.   
Yet he knew how greatly Mairon enjoyed beauty, and this flower had no flaw. Its petals of deep red were perfect, and its thorns so sharp... He had thought about telling Mairon this rose was just like him – pretty and deadly. But he had forgotten about it. It would have been too sappy. 

''- Flowers wither,'' Mairon said sadly. ''I would have liked to keep it forever.''

''- It will die eventually, unlike my love for you, my Dear,'' he grinned. 

Mairon's face illuminated. He embraced his Master, thanking him with his whole heart.   
Melkor held him tightly, burrying his face in the mass of ginger hair. He inhaled his Maia's scent with full lungs, letting this beloved essence invade him. He could not describe, neither put into words how greatly Mairon filled him with joy, with happiness. He had despised such emotions, long ago. Yet with time he had learnt that he could blindly dive into them. He would not drown, if his Maia was there.   
He cradled him until Mairon disengaged to get up, the rose held close to his chest. 

''- I wonder where I should put it ?'' he asked. ''Any suggestions ?''

Melkor thought for a moment, and he detailed their room . His eyes stopped on the mantelpiece, where already were some of their ''treasures'' : a piece of a blue banner, stained with blood. A white helmet cloven in half. A skeletal hand, severed, which wrist still was bound by a manacle. 

''- Why not there ?'' he nodded towards it. 

Mairon confirmed, and set the rose in an elegant chalice. It was adorned with white knuckles and teeth – a gift the Maia had made for his Master, with remains of his enemies. Mairon took a step back to admire the mantelpiece. Good, he thought.   
He spun around to face his Master, an impish smile on his lips. He came forth, and straddled the Vala's lap. 

''- Now,'' he said at his ear. ''What can I do to thank my beloved Master ?'' 

''- Weren't you tired ?'' 

Mairon smirked, and with sudden strength he pushed Melkor down on the mattress. He crawled on him, and hungrily kissed his neck, leaving dark bruises on his trail. 

''- All of a sudden,'' Mairon said with amusement, ''I am not so tired anymore.'' 

Melkor let him tease him for a moment, enjoying the alliage of lips, teeth and tongue on his sensitive skin. When Mairon's vigilance faltered, the Vala flipped him over, and exchanged their positions.   
He devoured the sight of his Maia under him – his hair spilt as lava on the black silk, his eyes darkened by lust, his skin blushing in anticipation. Mairon held a hand in front of his own mouth, as though shocked by such treatment. But he was feeling playful tonight, Melkor could tell, and their little game was only starting. He went down on Mairon, kissing his throat, chest, stomach, hips.   
The Maia caressed his hair, as Melkor's kisses ventured on his lower stomach. He held him, guided him even downer. Soon his sighs turned into moans, and he tangled his fingers in the Vala's mane. He did not bother silencing himself. He knew Melkor adored such music. 

They would probably not sleep much, this night.

**Author's Note:**

> You came through ? Good !   
> This is my first work on this ship, and I truly love writting them. I wanted to depict a scene of intimacy, other than sex. I believe they too, can enjoy some very-cliché romance...   
>  I would love to know your thoughts. English not being my first language, I can make some mistakes...  
> Thanks again :)


End file.
